Close Knit Killer (3 page)

Knitted, crocheted, and woven creations were everywhere. Hanging from open doors of
an antique dry sink. Draped along the walls above tables and shelves. Old steamer
trunks and wide wicker baskets bulged and spilled over with colors and textures. With
her one free hand, Kelly succumbed to the yarn’s siren call—
touch, touch
. She indulged herself as usual, touching everything in sight. Mohair and silk, alpaca,
bamboo, baby alpaca, merino wool.

Walking from the foyer into the central yarn room, Kelly found even more temptations.
Wooden bins lined three walls, floor to ceiling, filled with every type of fiber—wools,
mohair, cashmere, alpaca, baby alpaca, and combinations. Pudgy round balls of yarn
as fat as Kelly’s little finger. Small, delicate coils of silken twists no thicker
than a single strand of hair.

“Good morning, Kelly.” Mimi’s voice broke into Kelly’s fiber indulgence. “You’re coming
in for a coffee break, aren’t you? I can see your empty mug.”

“You’re right. I’ve finished my pot of fresh coffee and decided to combine a coffee
break with starting a new project.” Kelly smiled at Lambspun’s attractive owner.

In her early sixties, blondish, blue-eyed Mimi Shafer was still pretty and youthful-looking.
Mother Mimi, as Kelly and her friends called her, was also the in-house expert on
All Things Fiber. Knitting, crochet, spinning, weaving, felting, dyeing, no matter—Mimi
knew about it and had done it many, many times. Any question you had, Mimi could answer.
Which Kelly found reassuring, since she always had lots of questions.

“A new project, how exciting.” Mimi’s smile spread. “Have you picked out something?”

Kelly trailed her fingers along the delicate silken fibers of a coiled skein. “Nothing
is calling me yet.”

“Well, in that case, you can help me out by knitting a baby hat for our knitting guild’s
charity contribution to the hospital pediatric wards. There’s a continuing need, not
just for babies going in for cancer treatment, but also newborn and premature infants
need hats to help their little bodies retain warmth. We lose most of our body heat
through our head, you know.”

“Oh, yes. All you have to do is lose your hat while you’re going down a ski run to
discover how cold it is. The last time that happened, I thought my ears would drop
off. They were nearly frozen by the time I reached the bottom of the run.” Kelly shivered
dramatically, even though it was hot outside.

“Well, then, why don’t you help out the guild by knitting one of those baby hats while
you’re deciding on your next project for yourself.”

“Hmmmm. I’ve never knitted a baby hat before, but I assume it’s exactly like knitting
a regular hat. Only smaller.”

“Precisely. You’ll use much smaller needles, but it’s still exactly the same.”

“Smaller needles, huh?” Kelly looked at her skeptically. “I foresee problems. I’m
not sure I could work on those teeny-weeny needles. I’d never be able to manage them.
I’ve seen Lizzie work with those, and it’s fascinating. But I’m much too clumsy.”

Mimi gave one of her dismissive waves. “Oh, pooh. You’re much better than you think,
Kelly. You could work on the larger needles, if you wish. There are plenty of older
babies who need hats, too.”

“Sounds good. You and the experts can handle the preemie newborns. What are you using
for yarn?”

“Cotton yarns. Come over to the next room, and I’ll show you.” Mimi beckoned Kelly
as she walked through the main room with its long library table. Knitters and fiber
artists of all persuasions gravitated there every day to work on their projects.

Kelly dumped her briefcase onto one of the chairs as she followed Mimi to the adjoining
workroom and classroom. Floor-to-ceiling wooden bins lined the walls here as well,
but half of the yarns here were of the softer pastel shades. Adorable baby and child-sized
sweaters and dresses and other knitted outfits dangled from the walls.

“Here’re all the cottons that would be suitable for baby hats,” Mimi said, gesturing
to one large section of bins. “You’ll have plenty to choose from.”

Kelly looked at the variety of beautiful balls and coils of yarns stacked neatly into
the bins—but she never got to choose. Jennifer came rushing into the room from the
hallway that led to the café in the back of the shop.

“There you are, Mimi. I’ve been looking for you.” Jennifer hurried to them, breathless.
Her face was flushed.

“What’s the matter, Jennifer? You’re all flushed,” Mimi said, clearly concerned. “Are
you sick, dear?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Jennifer said, waving away the suggestion. “Pete just got a call
from his grandfather Ben’s neighbor in Denver. Ben had a heart attack this morning.
The neighbor came out to get into her car and saw Ben lying on his driveway across
the street. The neighbor called nine-one-one right away.”

Mimi gasped, her hands at her face. “Oh, no!”

“How’s he doing? Did the neighbor say?” Kelly asked.

“The neighbor doesn’t know.” Jennifer paused to catch her breath. “The paramedics
said Ben was still breathing but his pulse was very weak. She followed them to the
hospital, but the staff couldn’t tell her anything since she’s not family. All they
said was Ben’s condition was serious. They may be taking him in for heart surgery.
And they suggested she notify Ben’s family. Thank God, she had a key to Ben’s house.
Ben keeps important phone numbers on his fridge.”

“Oh, that’s awful!”

“I imagine Pete must be panicked,” Kelly said. “It sounds like he and his grandfather
were very close.”

“Oh, they are. When Pete’s mom and dad were killed by the drunk driver years ago,
Ben and Mary were the only family Pete had left.”

“Has Pete already left for Denver?”

“Yes, he drove off a few minutes ago. He’ll go straight to Methodist Hospital. That’s
where they took Ben.”

“Oh, goodness, what about Cassie? Pete’s niece?” Mimi asked, worry lines appearing.

“The neighbor told Pete that she put a note on the door telling Cassie to come over
to her house when she comes home from school.”

“That’s good. You don’t want to take her out of school. That would probably scare
her even more,” Kelly said.

“Absolutely. Pete will be staying down there in Denver, right?” Mimi added with a
maternal nod.

Jennifer nodded. “Yes, he’ll stay at the house with Cassie and make sure she’s taken
care of and gets to school. Then he’ll be at the hospital all day. Who knows when
Ben will go into surgery. Maybe he already has.”

“Can you and Julie and Eduardo handle the café all by yourselves?” Mimi asked.

“We’ll need help. Pete told me to call the part-time cook we use when we have bigger
catering events. Frank can fill in while Pete’s gone. Who knows how long it’ll be?”

Kelly watched the worried expression on her friend’s face and sought to reassure.
“Don’t worry, Jen. Doctors have so many more life-saving procedures now. I’ll bet
they can take care of Ben.”

Jennifer looked a little dubious. “I hope so. Ben wasn’t in the best kind of shape
to begin with. That’s the problem.”

“Well, we’ll say a prayer and then keep thinking the best,” Mimi added. “Meanwhile,
is there anything I can do for you, my dear?”

Jennifer shook her head. “No, thanks, Mimi. But I’ve already called the real estate
office and told them I wouldn’t be in for a few days. Thank goodness I don’t have
any clients in the active phase of looking or buying right now. I didn’t think I’d
ever say that. But I’m needed here at the café every day through lunch and for the
prep work afterwards. I may have to help Frank, too.”

“Well, just let us know if you need anything, Jen,” Kelly said.

“Don’t worry, I will. Thanks, guys,” Jennifer said, then hurried back down the hallway.

Three

Kelly
looked up from her laptop computer screen. The breakfast rush at Pete’s Porch Café
was in full swing. Waitresses Jennifer and Julie, ever-present coffeepots in hand,
were efficiently moving between customers’ tables and the counter where grill cook
Eduardo placed plates of scrumptious breakfast orders, fresh from his hot grill. The
divine aroma of bacon and eggs, pancakes, and homemade sausage and gravy drifted on
the air. Kelly inhaled the heavenly flavors. It was enough to make her want to order
a second breakfast.

That was the danger of working at the café during the morning, Kelly found. She didn’t
have to go out and look for temptation; it drifted right past her nose while she was
trying to concentrate on accounting spreadsheets.

“More coffee, Kelly?” Julie asked as she paused by Kelly’s small corner table beside
the back door that led into the patio.

Eyeing the amount remaining, Kelly held out her large ceramic mug. “Perfect timing,
Julie. You have radar instincts.”

“I just know you, Kelly. I know your routine. When you’re working here in the café,
you drink more coffee. So do I. It’s because Eduardo’s coffeepot is always brewing
and sending out coffee aromas.”

“True, and we eat more of Eduardo’s delectable food, too,” Kelly said, watching the
grill cook smoothly transfer a perfectly done omelet from pan to plate. “How does
he do that?” she said, pointing. “That’s one of those unbelievable veggie and cheese
creations. It’s three inches thick. I tried making it at home once, and it wound up
half in the pan and the other half on the counter. Carl, of course, was doggie-on-the-spot
and snatched it off the counter before I could rescue it.”

Julie laughed lightly. “I hear you. I can’t flip those omelets, either. Eduardo says
it’s all in the wrist.”

“Yeah, sure,” Kelly scoffed, then took a sip of hot, hot coffee.
Ahhhh
. Eduardo’s nectar. Black and strong. That woke up her brain cells in charge of worrying.
“Has Jennifer gotten an update from Pete yet? His grandfather went into surgery over
an hour ago.”

Julie’s smile disappeared. “Not so far. Jen’s got her phone in her pocket so she can
feel it vibrate. That way she can’t miss it.”

“I guess no news is good news.” Kelly tried to find something positive to say. “Aren’t
those temp waitresses coming in soon?”

“Bridget will be in midmorning till lunch, then Doreen works through lunch. Listen,
that spreadsheet you made for us is great, Kelly. It’s so helpful to have something
like that posted on the wall with everyone’s schedule and availability right there.”

“Well, I wanted to help out. You’re all working so hard. And since I’m positive you
wouldn’t want me cooking anything, I figured a spreadsheet was the best way to help.
Jen told me to add space for the temps. After all, that’s what I do every day.” Kelly
moved her laptop around so Julie could see the screen filled with a spreadsheet detailing
client Arthur Housemann’s real estate investment expenses.

Julie briefly scanned the spreadsheet, then rolled her eyes. “Wow, Kelly, how do you
do that stuff every day? All those numbers would drive me crazy.”

“Numbers are where I live.” Kelly grinned.

“Let me know if you want something else for breakfast,” Julie said as she moved away.
Other customers were waiting.

“I already ate one of Eduardo’s yummy omelets. That will hold me until lunch,” she
said as Julie moved to the adjacent table where other coffee cups were extended to
the waitress and her coffeepot.

Kelly gazed through the large windows that lined two walls of the café. Customers
filled every available table outside in the spring green of the patio garden. Daisies
and irises, gold and purple, burgundy and orange, gently waved on their tall green
stalks, boldly flaunting their royal colors. Colorado’s gorgeous spring weather made
it easy to dine alfresco for all three meals of each day if someone chose. Sunny weather
and that bright Colorado blue sky beckoned. It was hard to resist.

A tall, heavyset, middle-aged woman appeared, entering the garden from the parking
lot. She was followed by a short older woman who carried a large fabric bag over her
shoulder. Kelly recognized the tall woman who hurried along the garden’s flagstone
path, not taking time to glance at the riot of springtime color on either side of
her. The older woman, however, slowed her pace, obviously admiring the bright display.

Kelly recognized the tall woman as Barbara, one of Mimi’s part-time knitting and fiber
arts instructors. Kelly had gotten to know Barbara nearly two years ago when she was
teaching at Lambspun. Barbara’s son Tommy was dating the young woman who first appeared
on Kelly’s doorstep one night, high on drugs. The girl, Holly, straightened her life
out with Mimi’s help, only to wind up dead from an overdose on the Poudre River Trail
one morning. That was the girl Kelly had questioned then-homeless Malcolm about at
the Mission. Malcolm had been sleeping in the leaves along the Poudre River Trail.
Everyone assumed the girl had lapsed into her former drug habits. But Kelly kept asking
questions until she found the truth . . . as well as the girl’s killer.

Noticing Barbara approach the steps leading to the café’s back door, Kelly jumped
up from her chair and pushed the metal door open. Barbara was carrying two bags of
what looked like fleeces in her arms.

“Hey, there, Barbara. You’ve got your arms full, for sure,” she said as Barbara walked
inside the café.

“Thanks, Kelly. That’s my mom, Madge, behind me. She’s come to help with a spinning
class.” Barbara pointed toward the older woman who was coming up the stairs.

Kelly stepped out and reached for the woman’s fabric bag. “Here, ma’am, do you want
me take that for you? It looks pretty heavy.”

“Oh, no, I’m fine, dear. But thanks anyway,” the little woman said with a smile as
she strode into the shop. “I’m stronger than I look.”

“Are you going to teach a spinning class, Barbara?”

“No, no. Mom’s the spinner. She’s here to help Burt with one of his classes,” Barbara
explained, taking the fabric bag and slinging it onto her broad shoulder. “Mom, this
is Kelly Flynn. She’s the one I told you about. She’s Helen’s niece who settled here
after her aunt’s death.”

“Oh, yes, yes.” The older woman smiled up at Kelly with clear blue eyes and extended
her hand. “I’m Madge Bennett. Helen and I knew each other well. It was such a shame
to lose her.”

“Yes, it was,” Kelly replied, shaking her hand. She felt a fleeting reminder of her
aunt’s absence. This woman looked to be in her midseventies—the same age her aunt
would have been had she lived. She had a kind face, like Helen’s.

“Kelly’s the one who helped take police suspicion away from Tommy when she found the
person who really killed Holly.”

“Ohhhh, yes! That was simply dreadful! Poor little Holly. It just broke my heart when
I learned she’d been killed.” Madge wagged her head sorrowfully. “Why do people do
such things?”

A good question, Kelly thought to herself. She still hadn’t figured it out, and she’d
helped solve several murder investigations since she returned to Fort Connor four
years ago.

“No one knows, Madge,” Kelly replied. “People always seem to find a reason to kill.
They manage to justify it to themselves, though. I agree with you. It is hard to understand
how their minds work.”

“Well, I’m just glad you were there to help out, Kelly. Listen, Mom, why don’t we
chat with Kelly for a few minutes then I’ll get the classroom all set up.” She slung
her mother’s fabric bag into the wooden café chair.

“Whatever you say, dear.” Madge settled into a chair beside her daughter.

Kelly pulled out the chair across the table from them. “Do you need any help setting
up the class, Barbara?”

“No, no, I’m fine. Burt said he couldn’t make his class today because his doctor’s
appointment was rescheduled. So, I told him we’d be happy to fill in. Rather, Mom
will be. I’m simply carrying the luggage.”

Kelly laughed. Barbara was a no-nonsense, take-control sort, a head nurse at a local
doctor’s office, so Kelly knew her natural tendency to “get it done” would surface
sooner or later. “Will you be spinning all that fleece, Madge? If so, you’ll be here
all day.”

“Oh, no. Burt bought some of my fleeces for the class,” Madge said. “That was nice
of him to do so. Every little bit helps.”

“Mom has some of the best Rambouillet flocks in northern Colorado,” Barbara said proudly.
“She regularly takes ribbons at the Estes Park Wool Market every June.”

“I was noticing that lovely shade of gray,” Kelly said, pointing to one of the plastic
bags Barbara held. “Is that one of your prize-winning fleeces, Madge?”

Madge straightened and her pale cheeks colored. “Yes, it is. That fleece is from Montclair
Blue, my prize ram.”

“It’s certainly lovely. I may just have to move my coffee and laptop to your classroom
if it’s not too full. I’d love to see you spin this one.” She sank her hand into the
bag of smoky gray wool. Softer than soft. “Oh, my, that feels divine.”

Barbara laughed. “Well, come on in and join us, Kelly. I think there are only six
people signed up for this class. So there will be plenty of room.”

“Burt told me their plans for remodeling the storage building into a larger classroom.
So someday you may have bigger classes to teach, Madge.”

“That would be nice. But the best thing is that Mimi and Burt are allowing me to sell
some of my fleeces there once the building is remodeled. That will be wonderful. Lambspun
has so many customers, my fleeces will be seen by many more people. I am so grateful
they offered me that opportunity.”

“Barbara, you should create a website for your mom’s fleeces,” Kelly suggested.

“I set up a website for her three years ago, but the amount of vendors online now . . .”
Barbara gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “It’s almost impossible to call attention
to yourself. Of course, she has found devoted buyers who love the quality of Rambouillet
fleeces.”

“I had no idea,” Kelly said, stepping out of the way as Jennifer scooted past them,
a tray filled with breakfast dishes balanced on her shoulder. “Well, I’m glad Mimi
and Burt are giving some of our local spinners a chance to show what beautiful fleeces
they have.”

Just then, Kelly noticed Jennifer waving to her from the hallway section behind the
grill. “If you ladies will excuse me, it looks like Jennifer wants to tell me something.
But I think I will take you up on that offer to sit in on your class. Watching spinners
always relaxes me.”

“We’ll be glad to have you,” Barb said.

“What have you heard from Pete?” Kelly asked as she rushed over to her friend.

“The surgeon just came out to talk to him. Ben had five arteries clogged, so that’s
why it’s taken so long.”

“
Five!
Yikes!” Kelly whispered.

“Yeah, that’s what I said. The surgeon told Pete they’ve fixed all five, but poor
Ben is in pretty bad shape. Pete said they’re taking him to recovery in the Intensive
Care Unit.” Jennifer exhaled a long breath.

Kelly watched the worried expression on her close friend’s face. “Well, Ben made it
out of surgery, Jen, so that’s good news.”

“You’re right. We’ll have to focus on that. Meanwhile, Pete will be staying down in
Denver for the next few days until Ben’s condition stabilizes.”

“That’s understandable. How’s his niece doing? Cassie, right?”

“She’s a real trooper, Pete said. She’s helped Pete a lot by finding where Ben kept
all his legal papers and stuff. I haven’t had a chance to talk to her yet, but I thought
maybe tonight when Pete’s back with her at the house, we can all three talk. She must
be pretty scared with Ben in the hospital.”

“Jen, your order’s up,” Eduardo said from the grill.

“Listen, I’ve gotta get back, but I’ll keep you posted. Oh, do me a favor and tell
Mimi, okay?” she said as she reached for a tray.

“Will do. I’ll be working here at the shop or at the cottage if you need me for anything.
Errands, whatever.”

“I may take you up on that,” Jennifer said as she headed toward the counter.

* * *

Kelly
closed the cottage’s front door behind her and walked down the narrow cement pathway
that led from the cottage to the driveway. The unexpected business call with client
Arthur Housemann had taken most of the morning. Glancing at her watch, Kelly noted
the time. Madge’s spinning class was scheduled for eleven. That left enough time for
another coffee refill.

As she walked across the driveway, the activity around the old garage drew her attention.
The front garage doors had been removed and leaned against the back of the structure.
The side door was propped open wide, and Kelly thought she saw Hal Nelson inside,
measuring a wall width. Then Malcolm came out the side door, carrying some lengths
of old lumber. At least, that’s what it looked like to Kelly.

Curious, Kelly changed direction, walking toward the structure rather than the knitting
shop. “Hi, there, Malcolm, you guys look busy. How’s it going?”

Malcolm jerked his head around quickly, and his thin face spread with a smile. “Why,
hey, Kelly. You been working over there in your little office?”

“I sure have. I started out working at the café this morning, but when I get a client
phone call I need more peace and quiet.”

Malcolm made a face as he tossed the old wood into the back of Nelson’s truck. “I
used to work with numbers years ago. Seems far away now. But I do remember how you
could get all twisted around with numbers.”

Intrigued by his comment, Kelly couldn’t resist prying. “Were you an accountant, Malcolm?
Because that’s what I do. I handle clients’ financial accounts and statements and
their taxes.”

Malcolm brushed both hands together, then rubbed them on his worn denim shirt. “Well,
I wasn’t a CPA like you, Kelly. But I was a financial planner. Feels like another
lifetime ago.”